


all the time in the world

by differentsnowflake



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Alex Has A Sibling (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex Has Anxiety (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex Loves Dancing, Alex's Parents Are Homophobic (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex-centric (Julie and The Phantoms), Angst, Anxiety, Backstory, Character Study, Coming Out, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pre-Canon, This is kind of dark, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, he has more than one actually, julie is not in this because it's pre-canon but i love her so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27862846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/differentsnowflake/pseuds/differentsnowflake
Summary: "There's no better way to work out your problems than wailing on some drums, right?"Alex's always been a little (a lot) anxious, and then he dies. This is everything that happens to him until then, including dreams, nightmares, friendship, sexuality, music and finding a way to just be himself.Or, I gave Alex a full backstory 'cause he deserves it, and it turned out to be 11000 words of angst.
Relationships: Alex & Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Alex & Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex (Julie and The Phantoms) & Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 137





	all the time in the world

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> use of homophobic slurs, mentions of blood, graphic descriptions of panic attacks, mentions of unconscious self harm, mentions of the AIDS crisis, kind-of-dark thoughts, mentions of underage drinking, (nothing serious) forced coming out and explicit homophobia. Please don't read if any of these triggers you.
> 
> The idea that Alex listens to Pansy Division and more queercore bands comes from the fic "November 2nd, 1994" by gennified. I just love that band and I loved the idea so I kind of borrowed it.
> 
> I also like to call this one "Alex is a gay drummer with anxiety and author is a gay drummer with anxiety so this had to happen."

There's a lot of people who believe he chooses to feel what he feels, that he's stared at a long road of options and has chosen the hardest ones, that he's the one who built all of his problems by himself. That everything that happens to him is his choice.

He doesn't even feel like proving them wrong. He doesn't have the strength or the time or the patience to sit in front of those people, look them in the eye and tell them that, if he'd had an actual choice, he'd be the complete opposite of what he _actually_ is.

He doesn't choose to have to think everything a thousand times, to have a brain that never shuts up, to be drowned by that doubt that never stops crushing him. He doesn't choose the feeling of fear that compresses his chest, the sickening speed with which his heart beats. It's awful, it's overwhelming, and he seriously doesn't understand how is that there's people who believe that feeling like that is _his choice._

He hasn't been this anxious all of his life, truth be told. The paralyzing fear started when he was around thirteen, when he started realizing that the world was specifically made for him not to fit in. It's like everything he wants to do is the complete opposite of what everyone else expects him to do, in every aspect, and he guesses that's when he starts overthinking everything. Absolutely every single little thing. 

All of the variables that he's not one hundred percent sure of make his heart go crazy, his stomach shrink and make him want to tear his eyes out. 

If his mom asks him to turn off the kitchen, he spends the whole afternoon staring intensely at it, counting every second, scared that his entire house will turn on fire. If he has an exam, his throat closes up and he feels nauseous until he knows for sure what grade he got. And even after making sure that he got the grade his parents wanted him to get, he's still struck by fear, because the teacher can write the wrong grade on his registry, or his exam can get lost, or maybe he read the grade wrong or maybe the teacher made a mistake correcting his exam and-

He doesn't like to think he's _scared_ , not completely. He's simply aware of everything that could happen, and his brain is used to consider the worst possibility as the most likely one. It's horrible, and he doesn't know how to explain the way he feels to other people, the way he seriously cannot _function,_ because he's always _thinking._

When he's thirteen, he also learns how to play the drums, and he learns that that's the only way his brain will shut up, at least for a few minutes.

He doesn't know how it exactly works, he doesn't know why is it so easy to forget everything when he's just banging on stuff, but it works. If he feels like he can't breathe, if he feels like he's about to burst with accumulated tension and his heart is about to give up, sick of the way his brain forces him to think, he just goes to the garage and plays until his body hurts, until his drumsticks snap in a half and his fingers get full of splinters, because he likes touching his new drumsticks when they start wearing out.

When Alex tells Luke that now he can play drums, Luke draws the biggest smile he's ever seen and tells him, in an excited scream, that they can be a band now. Alex had never thought about it, not seriously, but he actually likes the idea. 

All he knows about music is thanks to Luke, who's obsessed with rock and punk bands that yell about stuff his parents have forbidden him to hear. But, for a second, he pictures himself on a stage, letting sweat drops fall over his snare and his cymbals, and he nods, smiling too.

"It ain't a bad idea."

Reggie frowns when they tell him about the band. He stares at them for a couple of seconds, trying to find an explanation on their faces.

"Are you sure you guys want me in a rock band? You know I only can play the banjo."

Luke rolls his eyes and draws his arm around Reggie.

"That's why you'll learn how to play bass, dude."

It turns out that Reggie is not bad at bass, not bad at all. He does it in a uniquely natural way, and soon it's the three of them in Luke's living room, trying to cover the rock songs that play on repeat in every radio station. In the beginning, they _suck._

The only one of them who knows enough about music is Luke, who actually understands the songs and the parts of them and he can write them down in notes in a pentagram after just hearing them once.

Reggie knows a couple of things, but he has no idea how to read sheet music, and the songs kind of confuse him.

The worst one is Alex.

He learns that there's a huge difference between knowing a couple of basic rhythms that a teacher managed to make him learn in the three classes he had and listening to a song and playing it perfectly. Luke shows him songs he wants to play and expects Alex will just know _what to do._ Alex can't do that. He doesn't get the beats and the fills confuse him and he's not that fast. He loses track of the song when the rhythm changes and his hands hurt and he wants to cry, just a little, because he's not that good.

Luke only smiles at him and tells him that he'll be able to do everything with some time, but Alex is not that sure.

By the time he's fourteen, Reggie has gotten incredibly better, and Alex still screws up at least one in every song. He's about to give up on drums a couple of times, but he doesn't seem able to tell Luke he doesn't want to be in the band anymore because failing makes him feel bad. Actually, he can't seem to say no to Luke at all. 

He doesn't know what is it with Luke, why only hearing his name makes his heart start running. He _loves_ Luke, he's loved him ever since they met when they were seven, in the same way he loves Reggie. But there's something else in there, a new feeling that he doesn't know how to describe.

He feels his cheek painting themselves red whenever Luke smiles at him, he feels like his stomach disappears every time they're left alone and he has no idea what to do or say. Luke is special, and Alex doesn't understand why.

It isn't until his older brother tells him how much he likes a girl that he realizes what does it all mean, until he understands what's happening. Because -oh god- he likes Luke.

He _likes_ Luke. 

That afternoon, after his brother goes on a date with Mandy, the girl he's been crushing on, Alex stays alone in his room, sitting on the bed, trying to breathe. But he can't, he _can't breathe,_ and the whole world is spinning and he must be dying, _ohgodhe'sdying._

At first, he just guesses he's having an asthma attack and his hands go to the fanny pack he carries everywhere, searching for his inhaler. But the medicine does nothing, and he's so scared, he's terrified, and for an instant, he's convinced he's about to die. His thoughts fly towards dark places, whirling above his fear like prey birds trying to find something to eat. 

It feels like the longest minutes of his life pass until his head stops spinning and he stays lying on the bed, exhausted, still feeling like his heart is about to burst out of his chest. He doesn't know what it means, he doesn't know how to carry on with his life now that he's realized he's not like everyone else, he'll never be.

He's not afraid of being who he really is, he's afraid of everyone else's reactions. His family's, his siblings', his friends'. God, his family is going to _hate_ him, his family is going to _kill_ him, they're going to kick him out of the house and make father Johnson heal him from his sins.

Alex feels that pain in his chest again, that feeling of crushing anguish that won't let him breathe. When a bit passes, just long enough for him to be able to think clearly again, he realizes his nails have stabbed at his forearm, close to his wrist, and they have left little half-moon shaped wounds on his skin, as if making fun of him. He stares at them for a long while, watching little drops of blood form from inside the wounds, not enough to stain his skin. He curses under his breath and walks towards the bathroom, cleaning them with water. 

He _hates_ to admit that the sight of his torn skin helps calming him down a little, in the same way he hates admitting he likes Luke, but he can't help it. Since that day, his wrists and his nails become his escape whenever he can't play the drums to empty the thoughts that blacken his mind. He does it without realizing he's doing it, he does it because he _can,_ because he doesn't find another way to calm himself down.

On his fifteenth birthday, his parents invite Reggie and Luke to go have dinner with them. After all, Alex doesn't have a lot of friends, and he hates birthdays because they make him anxious, so he guesses a little birthday dinner isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

But it _is_ horrible, because Danny takes Mandy, who's now his girlfriend, and his parents are on a bad mood and Luke and Reggie are making too much noise and even if Alex is fighting to get over the way his heart reacts when Luke does something nice for him, he still can't control his feelings completely, he doesn't even know why.

When they're entering the restaurant, a couple of two guys is leaving, holding hands, smiling and living a life everyone should be able to live. But his dad rolls his eyes and covers his little sister's eyes, as if he were protecting her from something."

Those people shouldn't be allowed to do that in public," his dad grunts while he opens the door. "There's kids who could see that. I'm an adult, and I don't want to see that."

His mom nods and lays a hand on Alex's shoulders, squeezing a little. 

"I know. I hate that people think this is _normal_ now, that a man liking other man is _natural._ "

Alex feels like someone's cutting his head off, that someone's choking him, because air disappears from his lungs in an instant. Mandy frowns at them, seating on the table beside Danny.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with gay people," she says, crossing her arms. "They're still _people._ "

His dad purses his lips, in that way that still scares Alex a little, even if he's fifteen now.

"Mandy, sweetie, I don't think it's a good idea to discuss that with the kids here present," his mom mutters, staring at Lea -his sister-, Alex, Luke and Reggie. "Right, honey?" She continues, offering Alex a warm smile. "You don't want to hear about that stuff on your birthday."

"Um. No, I guess not."

His nails find his wrist again, and he starts scratching until he feels the tears wanting to form in his eyes disappear. Luke and Reggie seem kind of uncomfortable, but they forget everything once the pizza they ordered arrives. Alex tries to have fun, he really does, but the only thing he can do is force out empty smiles that he hopes look real enough. It occurs to him that if his parents knew the way he thinks, the way he _feels,_ the way he is, they'd never organize a birthday party for him. They'd probably kill him.

That whole year is full of pain, doubt and fear, but at least he gets better at drumming. He's finally figured out how to imitate beats, how to imitate songs. Now he's finally able to do whatever Luke wants him to do with the songs they cover, to invent fills and beats that go according to the melodies that live inside Luke's head. Reggie and him learn how to write too, and soon they invent a name for the band as well. Sunset Curve. 

He draws the logo, in the middle of a panic attack, because he's trying to stop his scratching and his skin-picking. He doesn't like the way his impulses have left scars, and he's sick of having to hide his arms with bracelets, so he's trying to find other ways to shut his anxiety up.

He likes drawing, and an idea for a logo occurs to him at dawn, when he hears the news. They're talking about people with AIDS, about how many people are dying because of it. He doesn't know much about how the disease works, and less about how it's transmitted, (not explicitly, at least,) but he knows it's common among gay men, and his parents curse them at dinner, as if it was normal to wish them death. 

He knows it makes no sense, but a part of him is really scared of _dying,_ of getting the disease with no reason at all, out of nowhere, and if that happens his parents will know he's gay, and they'll kick him out to die alone, on the streets, without a place to go. Anxiety won't let him sleep, so he ends up making the logo and drawing flyers in search of a guitarist.

The next day, he, Luke and Reggie put the flyers all over their neighborhoods, doubting there'll be someone who actually wants to audition for a band like theirs. Surprisingly, though, three guys show up at Luke's house that Saturday. None of them are that good, but Bobby Wilson, a guy their age who goes to another school, has stage presence and is slightly better than the other two, so they tell him he's a part of the band now.

Now that they have a name and a logo and another guitarist and dreams and expectations, they start considering taking this whole thing _seriously_ seriously. They dream of making it far, they start trying to get gigs to play. Playing live is really different than practicing at Luke's living room, but they all love it.

Alex feels like he's on the verge of dying before every concert, but once that he's on stage, safe behind his drum kit, he feels like he can breathe like he's never breathed before in his life. They realize most of the people who go to their gigs want them to do covers of popular rock songs, like they did in the beginning, and Luke's kind of annoyed that no one cares about their original songs, but not enough to say no.

They find a music store near Luke's house, and they spend hours there, checking cassettes out and writing down the names of the songs they hear coming out of the store's speakers. They cover Pearl Jam and Green Day and Nirvana. Alex has seen videos of Tré Cool on the store's TV, and his heart beats with fierceness when he looks at Green Day's drummer moving furiously along with the music. He'd love to be like that someday. 

The music store becomes some kind of sanctuary for them, and they spend so much time there the workers have started to know them by name. One day, while Reggie and Luke fight over which one of the discs they'll be buying, (they only have enough money for one, as always,) and Bobby flirts with a girl that works there, Alex walks around the back of the store, where there's the music that no one buys. Beside the heavy metal, he finds a section called "queercore", and his heart stops for a too-long second.

Until that moment, he'd been sure that queer was a bad word. But apparently there's a whole subgenre of music dedicated to gay people, people like _him,_ and he gets so excited he forgets he's in the middle of a store full of people, checking out every disc with the word queer above them

A guy passes by his side and lets out a snort, muttering a word that freezes his heart and makes him drop the discs as if they were on fire. He gets away from that section as fast as he can, almost running towards Luke and Reggie.

That night, minutes before the store closes, Alex goes back with all of his savings buried in his pockets, his heart beating so strongly he's sure his chest is about to freaking explode. The store is mostly empty, just like he hoped, and the lack of people make his anxiety melt a little inside of him. He can do this, _hecandothishecandothishecandothis._

He walks towards the queercore section carefully, trying not to think too much, trying not to draw any attention to himself. He checks out all of the few CDs and discovers a band that catches his attention. They're called Pansy Division, and they have a song called 'That's So Gay', and the title amuses him. There's another CD that looks cool, from a band called Nervous Gender, and he decides to buy both because he's got the exact amount of money for two CDs.

He extends them to the guy behind the counter while staring at the ceiling, trying to control his breathing. The guy raises an eyebrow but puts the CDs on a plastic bag and gives it to him with a tired sigh.

That night, he stays up until the sun burns his eyes, listening to the music pounding against his ears, and he's never felt this level of- euphoria. It's almost _magical,_ because he realizes there's a lot of people like him, people who're not afraid of the rest of the world's opinion. People who are proud, that screams who they are for the whole world to hear. And Alex would like to be like that, but fear is bigger than him. Fear is bigger than everything.

By the time he's sixteen, he's come to the conclusion that he's gay, he's _really gay,_ and he's not afraid to admit that. To himself. 

Alex feels like everyone else is convinced that being who he is is wrong, and just thinking about all of the hate that they throw at him without even being aware of the harm is causing him gives him anxiety. But an important part of him is proud of who he is, he's convinced it _can't be wrong._ Or something like that.

The band has started to take off, and that takes his mind off of everything else, and he's really thankful for that. He likes concentrating on the band. They play gigs almost every night, in bars they're not legally allowed to get in, cafés and restaurants. They play at Battle of the Bands and at garage concerts, wherever someone's willing to hear them. The four of them practice every day after school, and none of them really actually cares about school.

Luke counts every day of school they have left, even if they're only sophomores. Alex's always been terrified of school, of the way a couple of questions on a piece of paper can dictate his whole future so damn easily. The anxiety that lives inside of him always makes it difficult for him not to worry about his homework and exams, but Luke, Reggie and even Bobby convince him to start skipping class so they can keep practicing at the garage they rent with the money they make out of playing for tips on the pier, where bored people feel bad for them and drop a couple of coins on Luke's guitar case.

It's like they spend more time at the studio than at their own houses, and soon Alex starts to feel like the studio is his actual home. He feels more comfortable in there than at his house, amongst his parents, who have started donating money to a summer camp whose principal goal is to make teenagers like him pray until they're no longer dirty, no longer different, no longer wrong. No longer gay.

Just thinking about that gives him nightmares, makes him wake up in the middle of the night trying to convince himself that he's home, not locked in a place where they'll try the impossible to change who he is.

As far as he knows, no one has suspicions about the secret he hides, and he likes that. He's thought about telling the boys, but he's terrified of their possible reactions, because even if it's small one, there's a chance they'll hate him. There's a chance they'll tell his parents, they'll be disgusted by him, they'll kick him out of the band. 

They've never said something specifically bad, but sometimes they make jokes that'll leave him feeling like someone's just punched him. Being gay is not something he talks about with them, or with anyone for that matter. The only time homosexuality is a theme is when someone brings up the AIDS theme, cursing everyone who's died because of it. Alex hates that people who've lost their lives to AIDS are reduced to their sexuality, to a little part of them that makes them different enough for a bunch of strangers to hate them.

When Sunset Curve starts becoming big enough to actually get _calls_ asking them to perform, they also start meeting a huge variety of people Alex never thought they'd have a chance to meet. There's a guy that gets his attention, that it's impossible to miss between the little crowd of their concerts because his hair is electric green and he's always wearing so much black eyeliner it's almost funny. It's not until the third time Alex sees him that the guy finally speaks to him.

Alex's sitting on a side of the stage, disarming his drum set. They guy approaches him with a confident smile and asks him if he needs help. Alex's not really sure how to react at first, so he just nods, probably looking like an idiot. The guy disarms his cymbals with so much easiness, as if he'd been doing it his whole life, putting them on their cases.

"Thanks," Alex says when they finish. He raises a hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead, and he finally dares to look up.

The guy winks at him.

"I like helping pretty people out," he answers, raising an eyebrow suggestively, and Alex feel his heart falling towards his stomach.

"Um... um-"

The guy raises his hands with an innocent gesture.

"Just tell me if you feel uncomfortable."

Alex has no idea what to say, and he must be quiet a long while because the guy smiles again.

"It's okay. I'm sorry."

"No!" Alex chokes out, desperately searching for words. "No, no, I mean... I'm not uncomfortable. At all."

The guy's face brightens up a bit, and he shoots him another audacious grin.

"I'm Miles."

Miles brings a hand to his hair and plays with his green locks. 

"Alex."

The next couple of days he sees Miles _a lot._ Miles is two years older than him, he works for his uncle's sound tech company and he wants to be a writer. Also, he's gay, and he doesn't care who knows.

His backpack has a rainbow patch attached to it, huge, and he's not bothered by the hateful stares some people send his way. Alex can't stop staring at it, he can't stop staring at _Miles,_ because it's basically impossible.

Miles takes him to a drag club, sneaking him through the back door, and they sit at the back of the crowd, staring at everything, the colorful people and the bright ambience. 

Alex would like to enjoy the moment a little more, but the spends the whole time terrified, he can't stop considering the possibility of his parents finding out where he is. They'd _murder_ him. 

Beyond his anxiety, though, the club is the coolest place he's ever been to. It's obvious that most people there are just like him, and he has to admit that he feels safe in a way he's never felt before. The people surrounding him may be different, but there's something definitely uniting them, making him feel like they understand him, that at least in here, no one hates him. They're one.

Everyone seems to know Miles there. The adults greet him with big smiles and he smiles back, confident, as if this whole thing wasn't illegal. Oh _god,_ he's doing something illegal, _somethingilegalsomethingilegalsometethingilegal,_ and the police is going to find out and he's going to spend the rest of his life in jail.

"You're always thinking, aren't you?" Says Miles suddenly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Miles is a little taller than him, and Alex likes the fact that he has to look up in order to stare at his bright blue eyes.

"Uh- yeah, kinda."

"C'mon, loosen up a little bit."

The drag queens come out to perform, they sing and dance and make irreverent, magical jokes. They pretend to be Madonna and laugh while they walk through the crowd, caressing people who watch the shows with shiny eyes.

One of them comes close to Alex, dancing with the beat of strident music. Her hand goes up to his cheek and she shoots him a cocky smile, running her cold fingers through his skin. Alex feels like he's _dying,_ feels his cheeks lighting up, he feels like his whole body is on fire, and Miles lets out a chuckle by his side.

The night passes way too fast once the music and the ambience manage to quiet down his thoughts. He doesn't even realize he's dancing, moving his body to the beat of the music until Miles raises an eyebrow at his direction. 

"Good moves," he tells him. Alex stops suddenly, but Mile brings his hands up, as he always does when he's trying to calm Alex down. "Hey. In here, you can do whatever you want. I need you to know that."

Miles gives him a bracelet when they're leaving. It's rainbow colored, and they sell them for twenty-five cents at the drag club. Alex wants to wear it, he really does, but he also knows he's never going to be brave enough. 

Miles rolls his eyes when Alex tells him that, and ties it around his wrist. Then he winks at him.

"I bet no one will ever realize you're wearing it."

"I don't know-"

"I _promise_ no one will realize. No one pays that much attention to us, believe me," Miles interrupts between a laugh, holding his hand. Alex's chest shrinks, and he tries to look convinced.

"Alright. Just because you promised."

They're a couple of blocks away from his house, hidden in the shadows. It's a little past midnight, and if his parents have given him permission to be out this late is because they think he's hanging with Luke and Reggie.

Reggie and Luke think he's home. He hasn't been able to tell anyone about the... thing he's having with Miles. He doesn't know how to call it. 

Miles stops walking, and stares at him for a couple of seconds. And then he's leaning towards him so quickly Alex doesn't have enough time to react. 

And then he's kissing Alex. God, Miles is _kissing him._

And then he steps back, with another of his little smiles. The eyeliner has smudged all over his face from the sweat and it decorates his cheeks with what seems like black tears.

"See you, Alex," he says then, squeezing his hand one last time before turning around and sprinting away.

He spends the whole Sunday in some kind of ethereal state, new, in a different level of existence that doesn't really make sense, not completely.

On Monday, Miles goes looking for him at the studio after rehearsal. He kisses him fearlessly, almost perkily, and Alex's fear of his bandmates finding out disappears surprisingly quickly.

That weekend, Miles takes Alex to another gay club, after a Sunset Curve concert. Luke, Reggie and Bobby were kind of angry because they always go eat pizza after a concert, but Alex can't seem to say no to Miles.

Besides, the concerts are the only excuse he has to run away with Miles, because his parents always think he's hanging out with the guys. And the band thinks he's going home to study for his exams, so everybody wins. Especially Alex.

Miles cheers him into dancing, and Alex moves awkwardly, trying to imitate everyone else's movements. He's always danced, in his room, trying not to be loud and with discs he's afraid someone else will find out he listens to blasting through his speakers. He loves rock, but he's got to admit that dancing is really hard when you're listening to songs like Basket Case. 

Miles rolls his eyes and grabs him by the shoulders, screaming next to his ear.

"You can do whatever you want in here," Miles reminds him, and Alex's throat closes up a little.

Dancing is fun in a way he can't explain, it's almost as freeing as playing drums. It's a way to shut his brain up, to ignore his terror-filled thoughts that follow him everywhere.

Miles laughs and his eyes start shinning when Alex starts moving his body freely to the beat of catchy songs he's never heard before. Miles follows along and Alex dances until he feels like his feet are burning, until his body is melting into little puddles of joy and excitement.

They leave the club a couple of hours later, sweating and smiling. Miles grabs his hand and Alex squeezes back. They walk with their fingers intertwined through the street. There's not a lot of people around, and even if a couple of guys give them dirty looks, Alex doesn't care. He doesn't care for once.

Miles kisses him again a couple of times and Alex feels his cheeks becoming a bright red, numb from not being able to stop smiling.

He gets home at three in the morning. His dad shoots him a smile from his bedroom's doorway, as if he knew something Alex doesn't. Then he hears him mutter something about love and Alex stops suddenly, forgetting about the brief happiness that was running through his veins.

Does his dad know something? Oh god, he knows. _Heknowsheknowsheknows._

But his dad doesn't say anything else, and Alex runs towards his room before he panics in front of him.

He spends that Sunday at the studio, practicing with the guys and writing songs. Alex's never really been into song writing, but it's fun to see Luke screaming ideas for lyrics and Bobby coming up with catchy melodies on the guitar, with Reggie finding lines for the bass.

Alex just waits for the song to be finished so he can come up with something that matches the final result. He guesses that's just the way he lives life, after all.

The next day, while he's walking through the school's hallways, someone pushes him. With force, with hate, as if Alex disgusted him. Alex wasn't really expecting it, and he falls over clumsily. The guy that pushed him lets out a laugh and mutters something Alex doesn't get.

He's not really sure about how to feel. There are people staring strongly at him, and that is pretty obvious. He loathes this kind of attention, and the worst part is that he doesn't even know why he's getting it.

Suddenly Luke is by his side, offering him a hand and helping him stand up. He's got a terrified look on his face, and fear settles in Alex's stomach. Something's wrong. He doesn't know what could be wrong, though, and his brain starts spinning, looking for awful possibilities that explain Luke's fear.

"Freaking fairy," Alex hears someone spit beside him, and reality strikes him like a wave, drowning him and pulling him towards the bottom of an ocean of despair. 

Luke drags him to his locker, and he takes in the pictures someone's put on it. Oh god. _Oh god._

It's him and Miles, that Saturday night, walking through the streets outside the club. In one of them they're holding hands. In the other one they're kissing. Someone's written the word 'fag' over his locker, with bright red paint.

"Dude..." Luke mutters. He sees Reggie running towards them, but Alex can't think, he can't _exist._ He needs to get out of there.

He's aware that he's running. He doesn't know where he's going, or how he is going to get to whatever he wants to go, he just knows he leaves the school, feeling all of the vibrant, hateful stares people are throwing at him. 

He realizes he's been running towards the studio when the houses and the trees become familiar. He doesn't even know what he's thinking about, just that he's _thinking,_ and he wants to stop doing that. 

He barges in the studio, slapping the door behind him. One of his hands is pulling at his hair, making his skin sting a little. His vision goes blurry thanks to the tears, and he's aware he's not _breathing._

Alex slides down towards the floor, allowing himself to cry. He hears his sobs like they don't belong to him, like he's watching a movie, like he's underwater, trying to listen to whatever's happening on the surface.

He finds out he's also been scratching himself, like he used to do years ago, when he feels something wet bathe his fingers. The feeling of panic fades away a little, the sight of blood anchoring him. It's not much, but his forearm is a red, swollen mess.

"Shit," he croaks out, walking to the bathroom. He places his arm under the water coming out of the sink, letting red-colored drops slither down, trying to control his erratical breathing. He needs a plan.

Everyone at school knows, including Reggie and Luke. Does Bobby know? He goes to another high school, so he doubts it. Does his sister know? She's in middle school, so maybe not yet, but he's not sure of how fast rumors travel. Do his parents know?

That he actually doubts. But he also knows now it's only a matter of time. There's no way to hide it now, and he wants to _die,_ because this is not how everyone else had to find out. Not like this. He was going to take his time, telling the people he wanted to tell, however the hell he wanted. There was no way he was telling the whole damn school. He hates that that choice has been taken away from him, that part of him was exposed so _coldly_. They've snatched it away from his fingers, and now he feels empty.

He only realizes Reggie and Luke are at the studio too when someone lays a hand on his shoulder, a pair of eyes full of concern rest on him.

"Alex," he hears, a brief whisper that stops his heart.

"Oh," Alex lets out, realizing his friends are staring at his arm. He doesn't really know how to explain it.

"Are you okay?" Reggie whispers, and then he blinks, kind of understanding how stupid his question is. Alex nods, because he doesn't know how else to answer. He doesn't feel like talking to anybody, he doesn't feel like offering an explanation or an apology.

But Luke and Reggie don't say anything. Luke grabs his hand carefully and frowns, but takes a towel and presses it softly against his skin.

"Let's go sit down, alright?"

Alex says nothing. He feels like he's floating, like he's watching everything from above, trying to make sense out of everything that's happening. He seats between the guys, and lets them hug him. They stay silent for a couple of minutes, and Alex is so damn thankful that Reggie and Luke know him well enough to know he doesn't want to talk. That he _can't_ talk.

"My parents are going to kill me," he manages to say after a while. He doesn't know how to express everything else that's going through his mind. 

"Your parents are great," says Reggie, trying to comfort him. Luke nods.

"Yeah, dude, you gotta trust them, don't you think?"

"They are- they don't like people like me."

The room goes back to silence after that. Alex feels pressure building up on his chest again, making it hard to breathe. At least he's not having a panic attack. He guesses that's at least something.

At the end, it's Luke who asks the question.

"Why- why didn't you tell us before?"

Alex swallows. The guys look kind of hurt, and Alex supposes he never had a real reason to be afraid of their reactions.

"I was scared," he admits. "I didn't want to- I didn't want anyone to know. Especially with everything going on... I don't know. It's hard."

Reggie nods and places a hand on his back.

"I hope you know that we support you. And that you'll always be Alex for us, and nothing is going to change how much we love you, okay?"

"Reggie's right," Luke smiles a little. "We're a band, a family. We're really sorry if we ever made you feel like we were going to react badly. You never have to be afraid to be yourself with us."

"Thanks."

There are tears forming in his eyes again, and he curses a little while trying to clean them off with his hands.

"Who- who's that guy in the picture?" Reggie mutters.

"Um. His name is Miles. He works for a sound tech company."

"Are you... dating?" Luke asks, sounding like he's trying to guess something carefully, taking a huge risk. Alex can't help but smile a little.

"I don't know. I guess."

"Do you know who took the pictures?"

That's a question that he, surprisingly, hasn't asked himself before. Alex has no idea who could be the person who hates him enough to take pictures of him and stick them to his locker, putting so much effort just into ruining his life. He supposes someone from school saw them that Saturday and he couldn't resist being an idiot.

"No."

That afternoon, while he walks home, he has another panic attack. He ignores it as best as he can, forcing himself to breathe, sitting on the street a block away from his house, trying to calm down the wild beat of his heart. He has to do it today, before his parents hear it from another person. Or worse, before someone shows them the pictures. Oh god, what if someone's already shown them the photos?

The door, as always, is open. His mom is sitting at the table, reading something.

"Hi, honey," she says nonchalantly, and Alex calms down a little, because that means they still don't know anything. 

"Mom," he chokes out, and his voice must sound weird, because she looks up immediately. Her eyes fill with worry and she's standing in an instant, walking to his side.

"What happened?"

And Alex is crying again. He guesses he mustn't look good, after everything that's happened. His mom surrounds him with her arms completely, even if he's been taller than her for a couple of years now. She whispers things to his ear and rubs circles in his back, and Alex's almost not embarrassed to leave her shirt full of tears.

"C'mon honey, tell me what happened."

Alex feels like he's about to have another panic attack, so he forces himself to focus. He has to tell the truth before he regrets it. 

"Is- is dad home?"

His mom blinks, and Alex supposes that's not what she'd been expecting to hear.

"Uh, I think so. In his studio, as usual."

"Can you... can you please ask him to come? I've got something to tell you guys."

"Okay."

His dad raises an eyebrow at him when he walks out of his studio, almost like he finds funny the fact that Alex feels like he's about to _die._

"Um. I want you to know that I wasn't going to tell you this. But now I have to, because I want you to hear it from me, okay? And I want- I don't know. To apologize, I guess, for not telling you sooner."

"What are you talking about?" His dad asks.

Alex gathers up all of the courage he finds inside his body, finding support in all of the imaginary scenarios he can see of this ending up well.

"I'm- I'm gay."

The words are a desperate, pained, inexistent whisper. His voice is a shaking thread. He's not even sure he said it out loud, until his father takes a step back and lets out a laugh.

"Alex. You're not gay. I don't appreciate this kind of prank, okay?"

"Dad-"

"I don't want to hear any more about that."

Alex starts crying again, and this time, no one hugs him. No one takes him in their arms and tells him everything's going to be okay. His mom just stares at him without saying a word and he lets the tears flow, looking for something to say.

"It's not a prank," me manages to croak between sobs. "I wouldn't- I wouldn't joke about this."

"You're not gay, and that's that. Go to your room, Alex, I don't want to see you right now."

Alex doesn't know where the bravery comes from, but he chokes back a sob and straightens up a little, trying to weigh down his words with confidence.

"I am who I am," he starts. "And I'm sorry if you don't like it, or if you hate me, but I'm not going to let you ignore me. Not this time."

His mom is the one to take a step towards Alex, standing between him and his dad's furious gaze.

"Alex. I don't know- I don't know who's been putting these ideas in your head. But those kinds of people, they're not normal. And you _are_ normal, honey, I know you. So I’m asking you not to talk with anyone about this, okay? People might think-"

The rest of it all is yelling. He doesn't know why he's yelling, why he thinks that if he argues with them enough, he'll convince his parents that he is normal, that being gay is not something he chooses, that it's not a bad joke to hurt them. This whole thing has nothing to do with them, and Alex doesn't understand how is it that his parents can't see that.

And then his mom is pushing him, not that strongly but firmly, and Alex's heart freezes again.

"Then leave!" She yells, and his tears dry with surprise. "If you're so sure that you're- this, I don't want you in this house! I don't want you imposing your ideas on your sister or on us! 

"Mom-" 

Now Alex wants to take it all back. He wants to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. He never- he always feared they'd kick him out, but he never thought they would _actually_ do it. He never thought their hate for different people would go this far.

"Leave and don't come back until you realize how sick you are"

"Mary..." his dad whispers his mother's name, like he can't believe this either. But she shakes her head and points to the door.

"Now, Alexander! I can't see you."

"Dad," Alex begs, and his dad's eyes look back and forth between him and his mom for the longest second ever. Then he sighs and nods.

"Leave."

So Alex leaves.

He's aware of the worried looks some people give him while he runs through the streets, unable to hold back tears. But no one tells him anything, no one comes up to him, and Alex runs aimlessly until he realizes he has no idea where he is. He's near the beach, on an empty street. His lungs burn and his legs hurt. He lets himself fall on the sand; his body tired of keeping him moving.

He curls up, hands around his knees, trying to choke back his sobs. 

God, what is he going to do? He's been fearing this moment for so long, but watching it come true it's- awful. Where the hell is he going to _live?_ What is he going to eat?

He's got a wrinkled ten-dollar bill in his pocket and his fanny pack where he always has his inhaler. That's it. God, he's fucked. So fucked.

He stays sitting there, on the sand, until the sun starts hiding and the cold wind stabs at him like some sort of needles. He still doesn't know in which part of the city he is, or what he's supposed to do next.

He never thought he'd get to this point. He's always known his parents weren't the most open and accepting people in the world, but he kept telling himself that his fear of being kicked out was just _that,_ an irrational fear caused by his anxiety.

The only thing that occurs to him is to go to the studio and sleep in Luke's couch. He's afraid of going to one of the guys' house, he's afraid to bother them. Alex'd have to explain to their parents why is that he no longer has a place to live, and maybe his friends' parents will react the same way his parents did. 

He stands up when night has completely settled in. It's never really cold in Los Angeles, but the wind runs stronger with every passing minute and Alex is cold. He hates this, and he realizes he no longer has tears to shed.

He follows street signs and some estranger's indications 'til he finally arrives to a street he recognizes. It takes him two hours to get to the studio, because he's tired and his arms hurt where he's scratched them earlier this morning. 

He enters the studio and lies on the couch, not really knowing what to do. Suddenly, all of his thoughts seem just _gone,_ and now there's only anxiety, raw and cruel, crawling up his chest. He grabs his Walkman, an old one that barely works, and he turns it on, letting a Pansy Division song calm his nerves a little. When he realizes there's no way he's calming down completely until he does something to let go of the tension, he grabs his sticks and sits behind his drums.

He plays and plays and plays and plays and _keeps playing,_ and then one of his drumsticks breaks. A half of it falls loudly to the floor, and Alex thinks he might have been playing a little too loud. Maybe.

He stares at the broken piece of wood for a couple of minutes, letting his breathing go crazy. The clock on the wall tells him it's three o'clock in the morning, and he briefly wonders how is that possible. He could swear he's only been playing for a couple of minutes, but the way his legs and wrists have gone numb let him know he's been at it for a few hours now. 

He doesn't have any more drumsticks, not in the studio, and he's got nothing to play with and he doesn't have a way to get a new pair because he has no money, and he doubts his parents will let him go back to the house so he can get his stuff. He also doesn't want to face them, face his sister or his brother. If they think the same way his parents do- everyone hates him. 

Everyone hates him, everyone's _always_ hated him, and he should've known that from the start. He's wrong, something's wrong with him, there's always been something wrong with him and he doesn't know how to fix it, he doesn't even know if it can be fixed. He wishes he could fix it, he wishes he could erase that part of himself and pretend it never existed, pretend he's just like everyone else, like everyone else _expects_ him to be.

But he can't be that person, he's _tried_ to be that person and he's never felt worse before. He can't change who he is, he doesn't want to change who he is. He's never really wanted to do it. He just wants- understanding. 

And then he's playing again, following the abstract rhythm of punk songs pounding against his ears. The broken drumstick leaves splinters on his fingers as he keeps on punching things. He's not even playing right, he loses the beat and his hands are shaking too hard to come up with a clean sound, but it's the only thing that grounds him.

Playing drums is the only thing that makes him feel safe, that teleports him to a world where he doesn't have to _think that hard,_ he just has to feel and let go. It's the only way of getting rid of that crushing anxiety, of those millions of thoughts that move inside of him in a dark, disturbing swirl made out of shattered, dangerous material, ready to burst. 

Alex falls asleep when the sun has risen up. He lets the shattered sticks fall to the ground, moving his wrists, trying to shake the numbness and pain that has settled on his joints away. He feels bad for a second, for the people who live near the studio and had to endure his uncoordinated wailing. 

The day passes like it's a movie, like he's watching it all from the outside. He sits on the floor, staring at the ceiling, trying to find ways to carry on with his life. The first thing he needs is new drumsticks, right? But he has no way of getting those, at least not right now, so he needs to focus on other things. 

He gets hungry at noon. He hasn't eaten anything since yesterday's breakfast, and Alex guesses he'll have to use his only ten dollars, that represent all of his belongings. He buys a burger and sits at a table, alone, staring at people who walk by the street, without paying any attention to him, all of them busy with their own problems and lives.

Alex wonders if his parents are thinking about him, if they're worried. 

He remembers his mom telling him not to come back until he realized how sick he was, how wrong he was. Alex knows there's no way he's realizing any of that, because he knows he's not sick, he's not wrong. This whole thing isn't a choice he made to make his family uncomfortable. God, he only told them because he had to, because they were going to find out one way or another. 

He doesn't want to change, he doesn't want to lie and hope everything goes back to normal. He guesses he'll just have to stay gone, then.

Later that day, Bobby, Luke and Reggie go with him to the pier and they play until he gets enough money to buy a new couple of drumsticks and a pink hoodie that catches his eye. His parents wouldn't let him wear clothes with colors that they considered feminine, and he feels something special when he puts it on, kind of like he's getting rid of everything that tied him with them. 

There's no way he's coming back, and he can't keep living in a shadow of himself, hiding things that make him _Alex._ He's been doing that his whole damn life, and he's sick of it.

Both Reggie and Luke tell him he can stay at their houses, but Alex feels more comfortable sleeping at the studio. There's something really exciting about living alone.

He goes back to school a little later, but the first thing he finds is more slurs painted on his locker, and people still insult him when he walks past them. A week later, he decides to drop out. Without his parents, there's no one forcing him to go to that _hellhole,_ and after all, if he cared about school it's because he wanted to make his parents proud. Now he only has to make himself proud.

The new path he's chosen for himself doesn't include school in it, so he just stops going. Luke whines and stomps his feet like he always does when he's jealous. He tells Alex it's not fair he has to keep going to school when Alex can spend the whole day at the studio, playing music and looking for a job.

It's not long until Luke runs away from home.

He arrives at the studio at night, when Alex is trying to actually write a song. Luke's eyes shine with unshed tears and his hands are shaking.

"Luke?" He asks. Luke just stares back at him, with those huge puppy eyes, and Alex remembers vaguely why he couldn't say no to him a couple of years ago. He doesn't feel like that anymore, but he's mad someone has hurt his best friend.

"Hey," Luke whispers, biting his lip. 

"What-?"

"My mom- my mom and I got in a fight. And I left."

"Oh."

"Can I crash in here tonight?" He wonders, his voice trembling, and Alex knows him well enough to know he's about to start crying.

"Don't ask stupid questions."

The band spends Christmas together. Reggie's parents don't really care if he spends the holidays at the studio instead of at home, and Bobby's give him permission to do whatever he wants. They play Christmas carols in various places just to get paid, and then they buy turkey sandwiches from a place his mother wouldn't have let him eat anything.

It's fun, and actually, it's the best Christmas he's had in a long time.

There are posters on the streets with Luke's face on them, and even if Luke tears them away from the walls and rips them into pieces, Alex likes the gesture his parents had. He'd like that, for his family to put posters with his face on them. He hasn't spoken his parents or his siblings in almost a month, and none of them seem to care. The thought stings and hurts a little.

A couple of days after Christmas, they decide on recording a demo, because they finally have enough savings to rent a recording studio. A couple of days after Christmas, too, Alex comes across his older brother.

The idea of recording a demo comes out of nowhere, but it makes sense. They need a way to present themselves to executives, a way to bring attention to themselves, and recording their own demo has always been one of their dreams as a band. 

Alex is a little nervous, he's afraid of screwing up and ruining the recording and wasting all of their money, but he knows he's going to have to man up. After all, this is what he wants to do with his life. 

They've just finished a small gig in one of the little clubs where they're known and where people go specifically to see _them_. Specifically to see Sunset Curve, and that's so crazy to Alex.

He's getting his drums on the back of Reggie's dad's minivan, the one he always lets them borrow when they've got somewhere to go, when his brother comes up to him from behind. 

Alex almost screams when he sees him, and ends up cursing when his heart beat slows down a little. 

"Alex," Danny says, his eyes huge and a little surprised. Alex doesn't know what to think, he doesn't know what to say. He'd never really thought he'd see Danny again, he didn't think Danny would care about him after whatever his parents told his siblings.

If Alex has to be honest, he and Danny have never been that close. Danny is five years older than him, goes to college and he likes football and girls and smoking when his parents aren't home. Danny is the most social person Alex knows. He's not scared of anything. And Alex, well- he's Alex.

He still doesn't know what to say, so he clears his throat and offers a little smile.

"Hey."

"What- what the hell are you doing?" His brother growls. 

"What do you mean?"

Danny lets out a frustrated sigh. He sounds kind of angry, and Alex doesn't like the way that anger seems to be directed at him. His stomach shrinks with fear. He can't stand any more tense talks, more insults. He's had enough of them, and he's about to tell Danny that he doesn't want to speak with him when Danny grabs him by the shoulders and buries him in a hug.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" he mutters against his skin. Danny is quite taller than him, and his chin rests carefully on top of his head.

Alex feels his eyes filling with tears, because this is what he's wanted for a long time now.

"Every time I called home and asked to talk to you, they told me you couldn't come to the phone, and when I came home for the holidays, they told me that you had ran away. What the hell were you thinking? You're _sixteen,_ Alex."

"Almost seventeen."

"And then I went to your school," Danny continues, as if Alex hadn't said anything. "And I found out you stopped going a month ago. Alex. You can't- you can't do that."

It's then that Alex realizes there's something that doesn't make sense with his brother's story.

"I didn't run away," he whispers, stepping away from the hug. "Danny, I didn't leave because I wanted to. They _made_ me." 

Danny's face falls in an instant, but then he draws a smile. He chuckles and rolls his eyes.

"Alex," he says, sounding like he's scolding him, and Alex feels his own anger blooming in his throat.

"It's true! They told me to leave, they told me they didn't want to see me. So I left."

"Why the hell would mom and dad want you gone?"

"Because I'm gay, Danny."

Danny stays silent for a long while, long enough for Reggie, Luke and Bobby to come out of the club as well, holding their instrument cases and laughing. Luke's the first one to notice him and his brother, and Alex sees Luke glaring at the rest of the band, kind of waiting for the right moment to step in.

Alex's heart is beating furiously inside his chest, and for a second he's convinced he's about to die. 

"Oh," Danny steps back a little. He stares at Alex like he's seeing a new person for the first time. 

"Oh? Is that all you're going to say?" Alex's not sure of where the anger and sarcasm is coming from, but he supposes it's leaving his mouth because he's tired of the fact that being gay suddenly makes him a whole different person through everyone else's eyes. He's still the same fucking person, and he's tired of having to prove it.

"I- I don't know what you want me to say."

"Tell me it's okay. That you don't hate me," Alex voice wavers.

"I don't hate you, Alex. I'm never going to hate you. But-"

"I don't want any buts!" Alex finds himself screaming. "I'm _fine,_ Danny, and I don't want to talk to you."

Danny just keeps staring at him, as if struggling to find the Alex he knew under the rubble of his revelation, and Alex hates it. Either of them moves, and angst explodes in his chest again.

"He said he doesn't want to talk to you! Go!"

Luke seems to decide this is the perfect moment to step in, because he, Reggie and Bobby step between Alex and Danny.

Bobby's the one who walks towards his brother. Alex can't see his face, but he can imagine the frown that usually comes with the way Bobby clenches his fists when he gets angry.

"He told you to leave."

Danny stares at him one last time, he buries his hand in his pockets and nods.

"Tell me if you ever need money, okay?"

That's the last thing his brother ever says to him.

Alex waits until his silhouette disappears completely to start crying.

He spends his seventeenth birthday in a recording studio, an _actual_ professional recording studio, that costs them all of their savings and a little more. But it's so damn worth it. They even have enough money to do a photo session to put on the demo, and Alex feels like he could burst from happiness.

Bobby's mom bakes him a birthday cake and they eat it at the studio, along with a can of beer Reggie stole from his dad's liquor cabinet. But it tastes _awful,_ and either of them drink more than one sip. 

Living with Luke is actually fun, (if you can call sleeping on the same couch 'living with someone,') now that either of them goes to school. Luke spends the whole day writing, song after song, note after note, and Alex watches him and gives him a couple of opinions. Luke always has the same reaction to his suggestions, with that big smile and an excited nod.

"You are a _genius,_ Alex."

Reggie also starts spending a lot of time at the studio, and it's not until weeks later that he confesses that he hates being at home because his parents are always fighting. Reggie's always hated conflict, Alex knows that, and he feels kind of bad for him. 

As the summer approaches, they all start spending more nights at the studio than at home. 

Alex doesn't see Miles again, not really. Miles gifts him a gold chain and a sad smile when he tells Alex he's going on tour with a band, helping them with their sound tech. Miles is not even sure if he'll come back to LA, because he wants to live in New York now. Alex can't blame him.

The night before Miles leaves, they go to the drag club again, and they dance all night long. Alex laughs until his stomach hurts and Miles kisses him once more before saying goodbye forever. Alex thinks he should be sadder, but the only thing he can do is sigh and realize life goes on.

He also has dreams; he has his own reasons to be excited. They're _so close_ to making it. 

They have more concerts every time, and an actual fanbase who knows them by name and goes to all of their concerts, that even knows the words to their songs. It's thrilling, and every time he dares to imagine a hopeful future, his body vibrates with pride.

Bobby and Reggie finish the school year and, at last, the four of them can finally spend all day playing, writing, practicing and playing a little more. They have gigs every day, in different, bigger places, and their name starts resonating in the Los Angeles rock-scene. They're not famous, nothing like that, but they're close. Close-ish. 

They're going to be legends, and he has all the time in the world.

A month later, they're hours away from playing _The Orpheum._ It's every musician's dream, a fantasy everyone who wants to be a rock star has, and he can't believe it's about to come true. 

And Alex can't help but to think about the person he wants to be, about how many things he wants to do. He thinks of everything he wants to do, or say, or be, about everything he's always been scared of accomplishing. 

He knows that, if he could actually choose, he wouldn't be the person he is. If he could build the skeleton of his life, he would've chosen a different one. But he doesn't hate the place he's at, he doesn't hate the place where his choices have taken him, and he's really happy about that.

Because now, he can do whatever he wants with the person he is, with all of the good and bad stuff in his life.

He just needs to be brave, and remind himself that he's always surrounded by the people he loves, people that _choose him,_ even if he didn't choose himself.

And the best part is, he has all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I probably shouldn't be so emotionally attached to characters from a kid show, but whatever, I made this anyway.
> 
> English is NOT my first language so this probably has a ton of mistakes and I apologize for them.
> 
> kudos and comments are highly appreciated!


End file.
